


Turas gun dùil

by elveriamoir



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elveriamoir/pseuds/elveriamoir
Summary: I was given a plot bunny by a very lovely person, and this is the result. Bilbo goes on the quest to reclaim Erebor and along the way discovers secrest his mother kept long hidden and family he didn't know he had. His own secrets are revealed and the dwarves are shook out of complacency and isolation along the way. Rated M just to cover me.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to PikieBix800 for the sheer number of plot bunnies they have gifted me. This is also all her idea. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of Middle Earth’s Characters, places or languages. They all belong to J.R.Tolkien. I have merely borrowed them to play with. 
> 
> Song of the day – Shakira ‘Las de la Intuición’. 
> 
> Quote of the day “If movements were a spark every dancer would desire to light up in flames.” -Shah Asad Rizvi.

Chapter One – Anns an toiseach.

Nori was tired. It had been one catastrophe after another and now he seemed to have been embroiled in a mad quest to take back a mountain from a dragon. Not just any mountain, but Erebor! The old Khazdul kingdom said to be impenetrable when its front gates were sealed. Nori still wasn’t sure how he had ended up on such a suicidal trek, but he was sure it all started back when he was less wise and more likely to fall for a pretty pair of eyes. He sighed and readjusted his pack, absently reaching out a hand to stop his younger brother Ori from wandering off the beaten track again. They were going to die before they even reached the mountain. Ori from walking head first into danger as he was writing and himself from trying to stop it happening. He raised his eyes to the heavens, sending a half-hearted prayer that those he cared about would survive. He held little hope of an answer as the deities had long ago abandoned his people. Maybe the Aalven whose home they were heading to could stir some pity in their ancient hearts. If any could it would be one of the Yvanna al rukum. Nori smiled as he remembered his last meeting with one. Maybe, just maybe they might survive this fools venture. 

 

*

Dwalin was grumbling to himself as he walked. A bad habit he knew, but it helped to pass the time. He was supposed to have travelled with his elder brother, the weaver and the two rascals, but he had an instinctive need to make sure they were not walking into danger. He knew little of the Aalven, only that they were smaller than Khazad and farmers. There must be more to their people though as they mainly went unmolested by the outside world. Aid had been sent one winter in his memory, but other than that they seemed to be unaffected. They had to be hiding something. The paths were well signposted, the roads neatly kept. There were no major structures, no defensive buildings. No high walls or sturdy gates. Invaders could walk right in. All in all, Dwalin was glad he had slipped away. He couldn’t let the Durinaul walk into a trap. 

*

Kilì was impressed at what he saw. They had been trailed since setting foot over the borders of this peaceful green land. The infrastructure was well kept, and the populace seemed to enjoy colour. Music had been brought to them on a breeze and the signposts aided their speed. It was a shame he hadn’t managed to grab Skilami-Khuzi Dwalin to mention what he had noted, but then maybe it was best to send him ahead. If the Aavlen couldn’t deal with Dwalin, he probably wouldn’t cope on the quest. Smiling Kilì started to hum an old walking song. If Filì and Skilami al aglab Balin would stop talking he might have been tempted to let them know they were being observed by several of the aavlenau, but they were immersed in statecraft and that was a subject he would rather avoid. 

*

Deep in the heart of the Shire, unaware of twelves dwarrow closing in on his home, the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins, The Baggins of Bag End and Neach-saoraidh de Hobbiton, decided to take his morning pipe of the bench at the edge of his private garden.


	2. Chapter Two - Cuir a-steach ìre air chlì.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be in the garden, but once again my weather has no idea what it is supposed to do so I am writing. I hope you are all well and enjoying yourself. I send you all the brightest blessings. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of Middle Earth’s Characters, places or languages. They all belong to J.R.Tolkien. I have merely borrowed them to play with. 
> 
> Song of the day – ‘Outlaw State of Mind’ Chris Stapleton.
> 
> Quote of the day- “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” – Oscar Wilde.

Chapter Two - Cuir a-steach ìre air chlì.

Comfortably full off his second breakfast, a rather meagre (by hobbit standards) bowl of honey porridge, Bilbo had stuck his head out of his front door and upon being greeted by brilliant sunlight was tempted down to his garden bench to soak up the warmth. While he had never been as outdoorsy as his fellow hobbits, he had always enjoyed heat and bloomed like a Gardinea Augusta at dusk during the summer months. And while he had pottered in his herb garden for several months now, this was the first day that had been truly warm enough to simply sit. The weeds had been tamed in the days previous, all his accounting was up to date, and baring an emergency he did not have to leave his smial today. He breathed deeply the smell of fresh earth and sweet flowers as he struck the tinder and lit the long pipe. He wriggled his toes where they rested next to the bowl and enjoyed the first breath of Longfarthing leaf. 

The warm breeze swirled around him and he relaxed against the stone back of the bench, free hand tracing the worn carvings of the seat. He allowed himself to drift in his own mind. Recalling sitting on this very bench, leaning against his mother, cold toes tucked under her skirts, bowl of harvest stew in one hand, as he listened to the harvest hymns echo up from the Party Tree. Eyes drifting closed he heard her husky voice, lilting harsh vowels as she translated the lyrics for him. Even as a kit she had been determined he would grow knowing as many cultures as she could teach him. To this day he was fluent in Cànan Siorrachd Inbhir Nis, Sindarin and Westron. All the while being passable in Khudzul and knowing a smattering of Quenya. Bilbo smiled softly as he recalled her sea-green eyes laughing down at him as he wrapped the single braid she wore around a chubby fist to examine its weave. He started to hum to himself, voice pitched a note lower than most hobbits his age, and lost himself to memories. 

How long passed he couldn’t rightly tell you, but he came to with something warning him an outsider was coming. He opened his eyes just in time to see the tip of a pointed grey hat passing further down the hill. Bilbo blinked as an old man with a staff came into view. It was how he was dressed that gave Bilbo an inkling that he was no ordinary human. The tall pointed blue-grey hat was the start, the long grey robes and cloak, along with the silver scarf and heavy black boots made up Bilbo’s mind. He eyed the long white beard that trailed down the man’s chest with a small hint of jealousy and self consciously patted the downy trail that ran down the side of his cheeks. 

He shook himself and grinned up at the man, “Good Morning!” he managed to get out, and may have even meant it. 

The old man peered at him from under bushy brows and Bilbo was struck by a memory of being a faunt and those eyebrows dancing above grey eyes. A name came to mind and he smiled wider as the man, known to him as Gandalf, replied. 

“What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” 

 

Bilbo laughed delightedly. “All of them at once I suppose,” He patted the seat beside him, “And a very fine morning for a pipe out of doors. If you have a pipe about you sit down and have a fill of mine.” Bilbo leant back further and crossed his legs behind the carved bowl of his pipe, offering up an embroidered bag. “There is no hurry, we have all day ahead of us.” 

He raised an eyebrow and pouted when the man looked as if he would refuse and then brightened when the grey clad person opened the rickety gate and stepped smartly through, sagging onto the bench slightly as he sat. 

Bilbo smiled widely again and offered the bag and when the old man had filled his own pipe struck the tinder. At the raised eyebrow Bilbo explained his different approach to most hobbits. “It was màthair, she didn’t solely go on adventures with the Sgòthan geala, she oft went alone. I believe she discovered this method in the Beanntan Gorm, some fellow named Dori taught her when she lost her matches. She wouldn’t tell me the whole story, but she taught me how to use it and I must admit it is more helpful than matches.”

Bilbo sobered slightly, “But how rude of me, Bilbo Baggins at your service my dear man.”

The grey dressed man stirred and offered his own smile. “Gandalf at yours my good Master Baggins. Although I believe you just referred to me as the Grey Pilgrim.” He chuckled, “Yet another name. So you are dear Belladonna’s son! I was very sorry to hear of your parents’ passing, I know it is a bit late but I offer my condolences.”

Bilbo forced his smile not to waver, if the man was who he thought then he had greater things to deal with than a sobbing hobbit. “Thank you Gandalf, she would be glad you are here now, and I can’t hold it against you for not visiting when I didn’t seek you out.”

Bilbo rolled his shoulders and sat straight again, allowing a moment of silence as they mulled things over and admired the Shire. “Gandalf?” 

“Yes Master Baggins?”

“Why are you really here?”

“Really? Why Master Baggins I have…”

“Just don’t!” Bilbo smile dto take the sting out of his words. “We both know while you would love to visit for fun, you rarely get the time to unless it is leading to something.”

The grey wizard seemed to sink further in on himself. “I really want to just sit and blow smoke rings, but you are right. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, “I assume you have had little luck?” 

“Aye, even across the water, and over the hill. I never used to have a problem getting Tooks or Brandybucks to adventure.”

Bilbo patted his elbow and hummed as he thought. “Why don’t you come for tea tonight Gandalf? I’ll see what I can do.”

“What do you mean Master Baggins?”

Bilbo shot him a wry smile, “I might be my mother’s son, but I still have duties.”  
“And would the rest of today be long enough?”

 

Bilbo calculated quickly, “I would think so. I have travelled a little, I assume this time I will be away a while?”

Gandalf cleared his throat nervously, “That is a possibility yes.”

Both Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up, “And what aren’t you telling me?”

“Would you be okay travelling with dwarves?”

That gave Bilbo pause, he had assumed it would be he and Gandalf as in his mother’s stories, but then the dwarrow he had met had been pleasant company. “I think I would be.” He considered something, “I reserve the right to bang heads together if I think they are doing something deliberately dangerous.” 

Gandalf coughed on his swallowed smoke.

Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath, “Did you say a Dragon!?” he didn’t know his voice could reach that pitch. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Bring your dwarrow tonight and I will hear what they have to say. If their reasons are good I will aid them. If it is solely for gleaming gems and glittering gold I reserve the right to kick you all out of my home!”

Gandalf nodded and stood. “I will inform them then. If I hurry I can leave a message at the Green Dragon.”

Bilbo swallowed a wince and nodded, watching the man leave, just as Gandalf was at the gate he sighed, “One moment.” He raked in his pockets and came out with a stub of pencil and scrap of parchment. “Give that to the stable hand, he’ll sort out any mounts.” He stood and dusted his trousers. “I suppose I should go get sorted then.” 

Gandalf paused at the gate as Bilbo made his way up the stairs to his door. “Should I leave a sign? Or will you?” 

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder, “Could you? I really do need to get the ball rolling.”

“Of course Master Baggins.” Gandalf smiled, “I will see you this evening.” 

“Until later then,” Bilbo nodded, stepped smartly into his smial and shut the door behind him. There was much to be getting on with. 

Heading to the pantry first he moved all the perishables to the kitchen and looked them over. There was enough for a substancial supper, and possibly a warm breakfast. He first sepperated the sausages and sliced the bacon, setting them on trays back in the pantry and firmly shutting the door. The side of gammon that he had hung, was prepared with some sliced oranges and cloves before being introduced to his oven. His largest pot was filled with a rich stew of spring lamb, potatoes, mushrooms and carrots, before being set to cook slowly. 

Nodding to himself he slipped out of his back door and quickly made his way down the hill to the first door of Bag Row. He knocked politely and a quick conversation with the Gaffer had four runners at his disposal for the afternoon, and the promise of the Gaffer’s personal hand looking after the smial and gardens while he was away. Promising the lads cookies, he kept them busy for the entirety of the afternoon. 

It was closing in on tea time when he sent the last of the lads off with a handful of cookies. He had managed to get a letter in the post to the Mayor of Hobbiton, the Thain of Tookborough and the Master of Buckland. The Green Dragon had a lengthy missive, as did the Hobbiton stable block. The Sackville-Bagginses had received a note and the Bagginses had received instructions for the upkeep of the lands, collection of rents and other duties. Finally the Sanas àrd-sgoile of Hobbiton had received his notes on ongoing conditions and notification they would be covering his duties. Cracking his back, Bilbo wandered down to his cellar and marked the two casks he would want aid in bringing up to the main smial, he took a collection of wine with him back to the kitchen, and once there set that morning’s bread onto bake. 

Running hands through slightly wild curls he mentally went through what was left to do. He decided to sort his traveling gear and retreated to his bedroom, leaving the door open to hear better. He pulled the heavy traveling bag from under his bed and checked it for wear and tear. Its straps were sound, no holes had appeared since its last use and its waterproofing was intact. Nodding he pulled the chest that had been next to it out as well and opened the lid. The scent of camphor hit his nose and he sneezed, relieved that the moths would not have gotten in. At the top carefully wrapped were a small collection of daggers, throwing knives really. He checked the edges and frowned as he found a nick in one of the blades. Setting them to one side he was glad to find the small hunting bow was intact and its strings sound. The fletching on the arrows was firm, the shafts straight and heads sharp. He placed the bow and quiver of arrows by his travelling bag. 

Sinking into a cross-legged position with a grunt he pulled out the waxed leather travelling cape, happy to find it was in good order, as were the heavy, unadorned, but utilitarian traveling clothes under it. His bedroll needed a couple of stiches and so he set it with his knives to sort later. His spare tinderbox was also present as was his traveling utensils and a spare tin mug of strange design. His mother’s scarf, fingerless gloves, wrist guards and light leather jerkin were all still useable and fit, so he placed these on the bed with one set of the travelling clothes. Levering himself from the floor he dug through his draws to find some undergarments and spare shirts. Setting one lot aside on the bed he proceeded to pack. 

Grumbling he left the room and returned with a grooming kit, a water canteen and a traveller’s healing kit. The later contained only essentials, the main being a way to keep a wound clean and dry, mild pain relief, and a steamed needle and thread. From his pantry he brought a selection of non-perishables – his brief trips having taught him most other races didn’t eat as he was used to, and although he could cope on less, he would prefer not to while getting used to sleeping on hard ground, under the stars.

Satisfied he was packed he turned to the mirror and dragged a comb through his curls, bemoaning the fact they were getting long, and tugging them into a small tail at the back of his head. He checked the chain carrying his mother and father’s bands, smiling at the sight of the carved jade bead that hung between them. Calmed somewhat he tucked them under the collar of his shirt and straightened his clothes. He was just fastening the last of the buttons on his waistcoat when a knock sounded at his front door. 

He smiled, his first guest was just in time. It was a good start. A quick glance around his room, he picked up the things that needed fixing and called out a pleasant “one moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Please let me know what you think. I always appreciate feedback.
> 
> Gardinea Augusta – (Perennial)  
> While this shrub's pretty white flowers give off their signature smell during the day, they're even more fragrant at night. Plant these along your walkway or in your yard, and their sweet and strong scent will begin wafting around your home at dusk.
> 
>  
> 
> I will be using Scottish Gaelic for the language of Hobbits. Khudzul for Dwarrow and Sindarin for Elves. 
> 
> _Translation. _  
> (Gaelic – English)  
>  Cuir a-steach ìre air chlì – Enter stage left.   
> Cànan Siorrachd Inbhir Nis – Shire tongue.   
> Màthair-mother’s.  
> Sgòthan geala- grey pilgrim.   
> Beanntan Gorm- Blue Mountains.   
> Sanas àrd-sgoile-Secondary healer.__


	3. Chapter Three - Pàrtaidh gun dùil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN unexpected Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of Middle Earth’s Characters, places or languages. They all belong to J.R.Tolkien. I have merely borrowed them to play with.
> 
> Song of the Day: ‘Young Wolves’ – For Our Hero. 
> 
> Quote of the Day: “Happiness is an attitude. We either make ourselves miserable, or happy and strong. The amount of work is the same." -- Carlos Castaneda

_Chapter Three - Pàrtaidh gun dùil ___

__Bilbo approached his front door with haste, laying his belongs on a small side table as he passed it, after all it wouldn’t do to greet a guest armed. Rolling his shoulders, he adopted a polite smile and opened the door, upon which he blinked in shock. He hadn’t realised dwarves could reach such sizes._ _

__Shaking himself as he caught the look of doubt on the other’s face he smiled again in greeting.  
“Good evening Master Dwarf, are you perchance one of the travellers Sgòthan geala mentioned this morn?”_ _

__Dwalin blinked down at the little creature who had opened the door to him. The lad seemed a bit more substantial than some of the others he had seen, with a fine down on his cheeks and familiar eyes. Shaking himself a little he allowed himself to bow._ _

__“Dwalin Fundinaul, at your service.”_ _

__The hobbit’s smile seemed to grow and Dwalin felt himself soften a little as the lad returned his bow with the proper etiquette._ _

__“Bilbo, son of Bungo, at yours and your family.” Green eyes blinked up at him and Dwalin allowed himself a small smile, before he could speak the smaller was talking again. “Come on, come in. It would be rude of me to keep any guest standing on the stoop, especially one who was invited.”_ _

__Dwalin allowed instinct to carry him forward and the smaller male shut the door behind him._ _

__“I don’t suppose I could trouble you to leave large weapons out of the main rooms? They are a bit smaller and more breakable than what I remember my mother telling me of the Beanntan Gorm, my apologies, the Ered Lindon I believe you know them as.”  
Dwalin blinked in shock at the casual use of Khudzul by an outsider, even as he found himself carefully handing over his main weapons. The large hammer seemed to give the lad a pause, but he handled all three well. _ _

__“Master Baggins,” Dwalin paused wondering how to phrase his question, he wasn’t used to diplomacy. He’d come here merely to make sure his kin would be safe, thankfully the hobbit seemed to understand._ _

__“You wish to know either about my knowledge of your Father tongue or why I handle weapons with ease?”_ _

__Dwalin nodded, unclasping his heavy cloak at the other’s motion._ _

__The hobbit in front of him seemed to dim a little, before throwing a wry smile his way, “The short answer Master Dwalin is from my Màthair. She was well travelled. Will that suffice for now? It’s just I believe there are several others joining us and I will probably be questioned to make sure I am who you truly want for your venture.”_ _

__Dwalin swallowed, the manner of speaking seemed familiar also, then the words hit him. “Aye lad, erm sorry Master Baggins. It was over familiar of me to ask so early on.”_ _

__A bright laugh left the hobbit’s mouth as the smaller male shook his head gently and gestured at the dwarven boots Dwalin still supported._ _

__“All is forgiven Master Dwalin, call me lad if it is easier for you. I answer to many names, titles if you will, and I doubt it is overly familiar. You are the protector are you not?”_ _

__Dwalin nodded and placed his boots where indicated following the smaller male further into the passages._ _

__Beside him the hobbit nodded. “I thought so. You are here to make sure those you claim as yours aren’t walking into a trap. I can’t say I blame you, nor fault you. I could not condemn you for actions I would take myself to protect those who are mine.”_ _

__Dwalin found himself ensconced in a large chair, a substantial mug of what he assumed was a form of tea at his elbow and a small plate of fruit in front of him.  
He blinked up at the hobbit standing next to him as the other started to talk. “You just relax Master Dwalin, I’ll be back shortly, there is someone else approaching the door and we can’t discuss business until we are all present and fed, can we?” _ _

__Dwalin found himself truly smiling as he relaxed into the warmth of the hearth behind him as the smaller male trotted out.  
%_ _

__Bilbo reached his door just as another knock sounded. He hoped all his guests weren’t to be of a size as his first one or it would become a mite uncomfortable. Shrugging off his thoughts he opened the door to greet another dwarf. His smile became more real as his new visitor commented on the weather and Bilbo was first to offer his bow._ _

__“Bilbo, son of Bungo, at your service.”_ _

__Balin smiled warmly at the friendly, but polite greeting._ _

__“Balin, Fundinaul at yours and your family.”_ _

__His shrewd eyes took in the once over the hobbit gave him even as he was invited in and automatically followed the directions he was given. His red cloak contrasted nicely with the walls and he allowed himself to be led further into the halls. His brother was already present, and if he had given up his larger weapons, then it was probably as safe as they could get in a foreign land. As he stepped forward to great his younger, he hoped the young one who followed him would behave._ _

__%_ _

__Smiling warmly as the dwarven brothers greeted each other Bilbo hurried back to his front door, he had spied to slighter dwarven shapes as he was welcoming Master Balin. So it was that when the Durin princes reached the door of the hobbit hole they found its owner leaning against the door jamb._ _

__“Good evening boys,” They started as the voice was deeper than expected and as the hobbit swept into a deep bow, they spotted the down on his cheeks, “Bilbo, son of Bungo, at your service.”_ _

__Bilbo mentally swore as he greeted yet more guests, this would have been easier if they had all arrived together, and stopped looking at him as if he was a rarity. He forced his smile brighter as the answered. Making a note that the blond was the elder._ _

__“Well why don’t you come in? Masters Dwalin and Balin are already present, and there are light refreshments in the lounge, as we wait for your fellows.”_ _

__Fili blinked, elbowing his brother until the younger walked forward, “How do you know there are more of us to come?”_ _

__Bilbo sighed. “While I am sure Master Dwalin is a great protector, and Master Balin a shrewd and analytic mind, neither seem the type to lead an extradition to tackle the cnuimh teine. You two are, while skilled, untested in the larger world. Therefore, we are waiting for at least one more and Master Gandalf himself.”_ _

__Fili raised a brow, “We are waiting for several more yes. How…? I mean…”_ _

__Kili broke in. “What is a cnuimh teine?”_ _

__Bilbo chuckled even as he ushered the two in, wincing a bit at the mangling of his language. “cnuimh teine? I believe in common it translates to the equivalent of, what did Gandalf call it? Oh yes, Dragon!”_ _

__%_ _

__Rolling his eyes at the four dwarves in his lounge, Bilbo ignored the concerned expressions and merely directed them to relax as he headed back to the door._ _

__Fili turned to Balin, a puzzled frown on his face. “What language is he speaking? Why is he so relaxed talking of a dragon?”_ _

__Kili cut across. “His eyes are familiar, have we met him before? I can’t remember meeting an Aalven before!”_ _

__Balin groaned and pinched his nose as he glared at his younger brother._ _

__Dwalin chuckled and patted his brother’s arm gently as he thought how to answer. “Fili, Kili calm down. Firstly, I would imagine that the language he keeps slipping into is his own tongue.” At Balin’s nod he continued, smiling at the ruckus coming from the front door, his kin seemed to be having fun. “Secondly, I should imagine its because he has never met one, and because as a race they seem to have little to attract the damn beasts. No Kili we have never met him before. I however have met a Hobbit before and suggest you don’t call them an Aalven to their face. It won’t be pretty.”_ _

__%_ _

__Bilbo had opened his front door to a cascade of dwarves. Wincing as the large fellow at the bottom seemed to be stunned. Repressing a groan, and wondering how it had actually happened he set about helping the fellows up. Thanking his training as names were poured at him, and making a mental note to check in with the dwarf who appeared to have an axe in his head, he smiled and raised his hands.  
“One at a time please, I do beg of you. Bilbo, Son of Bungo at your service. If you would all be so kind to leave any large weapons out here, my home is a bit more breakable than which you are used to. The same goes for your boots, you can keep any cape, or cloaks if you wish, but it might get a bit hot later.”_ _

__He took a deep breath as most followed his instructions. Giving directions he turned to the three huddled at the door. “Only large weapons Master Dwarf,” he addressed the red head with startling green eyes. “You can keep you many knives. All I ask is you don’t spill friendly or allied blood in my home.”_ _

__Those eyes snapped to him and Bilbo forced himself not to swallow or flinch. He raised his head. “If I am allowing you to have weapons in my home in deference to your customs, at the breaking of mine, I have a right to ask that of you.”_ _

__The younger of the trio stepped forward, breaking the stare off. “Of course, you do Master Baggins. My apologies for our behaviour. It has been a long few weeks.”_ _

__Bilbo allowed himself to relax slightly as the timid looking dwarf offered a bow. This seemed to spur the other tow into action. And he was once again greeted with names and promises of service. He cocked his head at the steely-grey dwarf._ _

__“Master Dori you said?”_ _

__That gained him another look from sharp green eyes, he ignored the rudeness and offered a wide smile, his hands and arms spread in welcome._ _

__“In that case I am very glad to meet you, and welcome you into my home.” He drew his shoulders back and place his right hand over his heart, his left still reaching out, “Cuir a-steach agus bi sàbhailte mo charaid, cha bhith cron sam bith ort.”_ _

__Dori stopped in shock, his smile growing wide and he mimicked the gesture. At his side Nori did the same as they intoned together. “Tha sinn a ’gealltainn aig do theallach agus a’ toirt taing dhuinn!”_ _

__Bilbo hide his shock at the red head knowing the correct response and his grin at the mousey one’s shock. “Welcome, it is good to finally meet you Master Dori. My Màthair spoke highly of you.”_ _

__Dori grinned widely and stepped forward “Belladonnaul?” He breathed pulling the hobbit into his arm. The lad stayed stiff for a second, but even as his brothers gasped behind him, he felt the lad relax against into him and strong arms hugged him back._ _

__“Uncail,” breathed Bilbo. The scent of lavender, leather and wool clung to the dwarf. He allowed himself a few more moments and gently untangled himself from the wool covered arms._ _

__He stepped back and smiled watery up at the trio. “Welcome again, be most welcome. I have food in the kitchen, and I hate to ask could you possibly start that lot off? There is wine in the kitchen also and barrels to be brought up and tapped in the cellar. I…”_ _

__A hand on his shoulder stopped him and Bilbo looked up into sharp green eyes, “Relax lad. Breath! I don’t know how my brother knows you, but for now we will do as you ask!”_ _

__“Nori!”_ _

__“No Master Dori, it is well, it helps!”_ _

__“Very well, come on you two, we will help Belladonnaul. Come only when you are ready lad.” With a smile Dori swept his brothers off._ _

__As the trio left him, the younger two dwarves hastling Dori for an explanation Bilbo let out an explosive breath and sagged heavily against the wall. His Màthair hadn’t told him his dwarven Uncail, the one he had been unlikely ever to meet, had brothers. One young enough to be Bilbo’s contemporary and the other with eyes so sharp they could cut._ _

__His hands shook as he rubbed at his eyes. One of the dwarven weapons pressed sharply against his hip and he sagged further using the pressure pain to ground himself. Why was he falling to pieces? Why was it affecting his so badly? He had family, he had people who cared, so why was meeting his dwarven Uncail affecting him so much? Why was finding out…his thoughts trailed off as the image of sharp green eyes came back to him…maybe it was how the red head had looked at him._ _

__Balling his fists, Bilbo rested his head against the wall behind him and took a deep breath. He was a hobbit and a host, he had to do better than this. Pulling himself upright and rolling his shoulders he nodded decisively. Feed and care for his guests, overthink everything later._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Please let me know what you think. I always appreciate feedback.
> 
> I will be using Scottish Gaelic for the language of Hobbits. Khudzul for Dwarrow and Sindarin for Elves.
> 
> _Hobbits. _  
> Pàrtaidh gun dùil – An Unexpected Party.  
>  Sgòthan geala – Grey Pilgrim.   
> Beanntan Gorm – Blue Mountains.   
> Màthair-mother  
> cnuimh teine – fire worm  
> Cuir a-steach agus bi sàbhailte mo charaid, cha bhith cron sam bith ort – Enter my friend and be safe, no harm will befall you here.   
> Tha sinn a ’gealltainn aig do theallach agus a’ toirt taing dhuinn - We sup at your hearth and offer our thanks  
> Uncail - uncle__
> 
> ___Dwarves. _  
> Fundinaul – son of Fundin  
>  Ered Lindon – blue mountains.  
> Aalven – halfling.  
> Belladonnaul – son of Belladonna.__ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. I always appreciate feedback. 
> 
>  
> 
> I will be using Scottish Gaelic for the language of Hobbits. Khudzul for Dwarrow and Sindarin for Elves. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Translation. ___  
> (Gaelic – English)  
>  Turas gun dùil – An unexpected journey.  
> Anns an toiseach-In the beginning.  
> Neach-saoraidh de Hobbiton-Healer of Hobbiton. 
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _(Khudzul-English)_  
>  Khazdul – dwarven.  
> Aalven-halfling.  
> Yvanna al rukum-children of Yvanna.  
> Khazad-dwarves.  
> Durinaul-Durin’s sons.  
> Skilami-Khuzi-Master warrior  
> Skilami al aglab – master of languages (diplomat)  
> Aalvenau- halflings


End file.
